


Never Have I Ever

by sapphose



Series: The Game Is Afoot [2]
Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-19
Updated: 2020-07-19
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:55:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25383448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sapphose/pseuds/sapphose
Summary: Julian introduces Garak to the human game "never have I ever."
Relationships: Julian Bashir & Elim Garak, Julian Bashir/Elim Garak
Series: The Game Is Afoot [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1838269
Comments: 19
Kudos: 148





	Never Have I Ever

**Author's Note:**

> There are multiple ways to play- I'm going with the drinking game version here, rather than the 10 fingers version.

“Never have I ever been a member of the Obsidian Order, for example,” Julian finished the instructions that he had only been half paying attention to. (The other half of his brain was attempting to calculate how many drinks it would take Garak to get intoxicated, based on Cardassian physiology, body weight, and the alcoholic volume of kanar. Would Julian even be able to keep up?)

Garak grimaced.

“This game is even worse than the last one,” he admonished. “It’s all about telling the truth.”

Actually, it was all about getting plastered, but Julian didn’t belabor that point.

“I bet you can still figure out how to lie. You’re very good at it.”

“You say that as if it’s a bad thing.”

Julian resisted rolling his eyes, but only just.

Operation:Garak was either a smashing success or a colossal failure, depending on the metric used to measure.

If the goal was cross-cultural exchange to better understand Cardassia, the amount of literature exchanged spoke for itself. If the goal was simply to spend time with an enigmatic spy and feel an illicit thrill, success was off the charts.

In terms of gaining any real information about Garak’s past, progress was murky and inconsistent.

Getting into Garak’s pants was a non-starter.

Logically, it didn’t make sense. At their first meeting, Julian had already been about 60% sure that Garak was interested. In the time since, the certainty had gradually crept higher, and was now hovering around 87%. It could have been 95%, but Julian allowed for the possibility that he was missing some element of Cardassian culture and that Garak was just naturally flirtatious.

87% was high enough to make a move. Except neither of them did.

Julian had never been good at poker. The math was easy; reading other people wasn’t. This, he thought, was something like poker. They were both waiting for the other to call their bluff.

“Are you going to drink or not?” He decided that tonight would be the night for calling bluffs.

Garak blinked innocently.

“Oh, have we started?”

“Yes. I said I’ve never been an Obsidian Order agent,” Julian repeated.

Still the wide-eyed innocence.

“I assumed that was only an example. You have to announce when the game has begun.”

Point Garak. Julian conceded; it was too early to play a trump card like that.

“Fine. You start then.”

“Hmmm…” Garak made a show of thinking, eyes sweeping the other patrons of Quark’s bar. “Never have I ever taught you a game in order to get you drunk.”

Garak had never taught him a game at all, except for one attempt at kotra, and that was a disaster best forgotten.

“I’m not trying to get you drunk,” Julian protested, which was mostly not a lie. “I’m trying to get you to tell the truth.”

Garak’s smile was predatory.

“An even less promising endeavor.”

Fine. A draw. Julian would have to play his next card with a little more care.

“Never have I ever pretended to be sick in order to avoid Ambassador Troi.”

He had thought about it, had even seriously considered it, but he had never followed through. Unlike a certain Cardassian, who pressed a hand against his chest in a tableau of wounded dignity.

“Now, Doctor, why would I do something like that?”

“If I had to guess, I’d say you don’t want to be around a telepath.”

“I assure you, my outbreak of Mendakan Pox was quite serious.”

Julian was 32% sure that no species with scutes or epidermal scales could even catch Mendakan Pox, but that wasn’t quite high enough to play, so he opted for another tactic.

“Three times?”

“It was a very virulent strain.” For a moment, their eyes were locked, neither willing to admit defeat. Then, with a slow, wide smile, Garak took a small sip of kanar.

Point Bashir.

“Is this game often used to accuse people of things?” Garak inquired genially.

“No. When I played it back in the academy, it was usually about sex. ‘Never have I ever slept with a Vulcan,’ or an Andorian, or something like that.” Julian’s known xenophiliac tendencies meant that he usually ended the night hammered, although now didn’t seem like the time to delve into such details.

“How crude.”

“Most drinking games are.”

Garak watched Julian carefully over the rim of his glass.

“Never have I ever slept with a human.”

Point. Combined with the knowing gleam in Garak’s eyes, a flirtatious one. Julian acknowledged it with a swallow of martini ( _shaken, not stirred_ , although neither Garak nor Quark had understood Julian’s private joke in ordering it).

“Never have I ever slept with a Cardassian,” he returned. Just like tennis- volley after the serve.

Garak took another drink, then set his kanar down on the table daintily and patted his mouth with a napkin. Julian suppressed a grin. It was easy for him to forget just how _fussy_ the tailor could be.

“This is a very easy game, Doctor. All I need to do is say ‘Never have I ever been a member of Starfleet,’ or ‘gone to medical school.’”

A challenge.

“You could. But where’s the fun in that? It’s a chance to find out something new about someone. People can surprise you.”

Julian was doing his best to be Bond: suave, smooth, calm. In reality, his heart had started beating faster and his palms were beginning to sweat, but he was determined not to show it.

(Garak would still see, of course. He always saw.)

“I’m very difficult to surprise, you know.”

“I could shock you.” An innuendo was on the tip of Julian’s tongue, but at the last minute he veered off-course, trying to surprise. “Maybe I keep severed heads in my quarters.”

That earned him a stern look of reproach.

“Never have I ever gone back to someone’s quarters on the first date, Doctor.”

One step forward: calling it a date. Two steps back: declining the invitation, and refusal to use the first name instead of the title.

Still, Julian laughed and lifted his glass. He had been caught, fair and square.

“Then it’s a good thing we’ve been having lunch together for years.” A sip. He was finding that he really didn’t like martinis. What did Bond see in it? “Never have I ever been exiled for tax evasion.”

Bold moves were necessary in kotra. Maybe they would work here too, now that the board was set.

Garak didn’t so much as twitch.

“Did I say that?”

“Among other things.”

“If you must know, that’s a lie I employ only for Dukat’s benefit.”

“You, lie? Really?” Julian raised his eyebrows and raised the glass to his lips again. Unaffected. Debonair. Dashing.

“It wouldn’t do to admit that I was really exiled by Dukat’s wife, who was jealous of our affair.”

Caught in an ill-timed sip, Julian spat martini back into the glass along with his laugh. So much for suave and smooth.

James Bond, he wasn’t. But he was still enjoying the game. Garak had called and raised like a poker pro.

“Never have I ever seduced a gul.” That was the only way Julian could see the story playing out. It was too much to imagine Garak acquiescing to Dukat’s advances.

“He was a glinn at the time,” Garak corrected, and Julian wondered if he had ever heard someone lie so incessantly, or so charmingly. “Never have I ever needed to get someone drunk in order to seduce them.”

Oh, that was direct, for Garak at least. Julian leaned into the air heady with alcohol and half-truths.

“Never have I ever seduced a man,” he offered, the final bluff.

“Is that another accusation, Doctor?”

“No.” Julian lay all his cards on the table. “It’s an invitation.”


End file.
